


The Night Before Christmas

by Oh_Bugger



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: Clever Mycroft, Developing Relationship, Fleas, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21896233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Bugger/pseuds/Oh_Bugger
Summary: Mycroft may be a meddler.. but sometimes for a good reason.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas at 221B.  
Not a creature was stirring. Not even a flea.  
Now, fleas _weren't_ a problem in the Baker Street flat;  
Sherlock and John had no dog. Nor had they a cat.  
But Mycroft had visited, unbeknownst to the pair,  
and left behind some of Lestrade's pooche's hair.  
~  
They were sat on the couch watching crappy tv,  
when John felt a tickle, and giggled with glee.  
"Oh Sherlock..", he purred. "I didn't know you care!"  
"Wasn't me!", Sherlock blushed, to the roots of his hair.  
"Oh..", said John sadly, and his happy face fell.  
Then Sherlock felt a tickle, and he scratched as well.  
~  
"Was that you?", Sherlock asked.  
"Did you touch me just now?"  
He'd obviously felt something,  
but John didn't know how.  
His hands in his lap, minding their business.  
Sherlock's wrapped 'round a glass of lemonade fizziness.  
~  
Then the itching ramped up, and the scratching got worse.  
Both the men's clothes began to disperse.  
"Oh god, I'm so itchy!", John said with a wail.  
And in seconds his shirt had come off without fail.  
"Arrgh! Scratch my back, John!", Sherlock begged,  
"Scratch it. _Please!"_  
He was spun; shirt was lifted.. and then John saw them.  
  
_Fleas!_  
~  
"Sherlock..", he cried, "We'll have to strip down!"  
"Aren't you worried?" asked Sherlock, "This could get around town!"  
"Too bad." muttered John. "We both need to shower..  
unless you want to scratch for the next hour."  
"Alright." said Sherlock, and they made for the bath,  
to rid themselves both of the fleas' itchy wrath.  
~  
John stepped 'neath the shower, ran the water 'til warm,  
then he beckoned Sherlock.. gently taking his arm.  
"We'll wash each other 'til the fleas are all gone."  
Sherlock was nervous, but he knew to trust John.  
~  
They searched and they scrubbed each other with care.  
John stood up on tip-toe and washed Sherlock's hair.  
It was under the water, this familiar place,  
that their hearts almost stopped when they came face to face.  
~  
Blue eyes sought grey, and the grey eyes searched blue.  
If their secret got out what were they to do?  
They reached for their towels and started to dry,  
then John turned and left quickly, not saying why.  
He'd just reached the stairs; he'd enough of the day,  
when a soft and uncertain voice whispered,  
"Please stay?"  
~  
Unsure what he'd heard, John turned.. crossed the floor,  
until he was almost outside Sherlock's door.  
And whether coincidence - or destined - who knew?  
Sherlock had stopped, and was waiting there too.  
~  
"We should stay close. In case there's more fleas.  
Don't leave me alone. Will you stay with me?  
Please?"  
~  
They entered the room and crawled into the bed,  
lay facing each other... little was said.  
"Thank you." whispered Sherlock.  
"You're welcome." sighed John.  
And both were asleep, not five minutes on.  
~  
Neither one heard the feet on the stairs.  
Those of a brother, and a lady who cares.  
Or the squeak of the door as they peeked inside,  
and the stifled, small gasps as their eyes opened wide.  
~  
"You're a _genius,_ Mycroft!", Mrs Hudson said.  
"I know.", he just smiled, with a tilt of his head.  
"Should we do anything else?", she asked with some doubt,  
"No.. let's leave them a'while. They'll work it all out."  
~  
They descended the stairs, said farewell.. went their ways.  
She to her flat, he the cold London haze.  
  
And it seems John and Sherlock will both be alright  
  
  
Merry Christmas to all,  
and to all a good night.  
  



End file.
